


I didn't mean for it to get this far

by TheTartWitch



Series: Tobirama/Madara [1]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Canon-Typical Violence, Gen, Grief/Mourning, Hashirama is kind of a jerk, Izuna's POV, JFK - Freeform, M/M, Madara's POV, Open to Interpretation, Tobirama Dies, Unknowingly tho, i guess, no happy ending for this story, the bromance is contagious, tobirama's pov, totally a happy ending
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-28
Updated: 2016-10-20
Packaged: 2018-08-18 08:25:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,992
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8155588
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheTartWitch/pseuds/TheTartWitch
Summary: Tobirama dies instead of killing Madara's brother, Izuna.





	1. Tobirama

**Author's Note:**

  * For [blackkat](https://archiveofourown.org/users/blackkat/gifts).



> Dang it, I'm totally hooked on blackkat's Tobirama/Madara fics...X) so I had to try it myself.

Tobirama could have done it, in that moment. His sword was angled for a killing blow, one Izuna wouldn’t have been able to dodge, as close as he was, and victory was already brushing the edges of his thoughts, but then he glanced to the side, at his brother, fighting Madara with as much of his strength he could trust.

At Madara, whose eyes were already wide with the knowledge that Izuna would fall, because he watched every one of Izuna’s fights with Tobirama, ready to spring to his brother’s aid. Tobirama wondered what it said, that Hashirama didn’t so much as glance over. He was a good man, a competant clan leader, but Tobirama wasn’t sure if that made him an attentive brother.

He catches Madara’s eye in that single second in which he might possibly be able to change his mind, and in that second, he does. His sword sways a little to the right, a genin’s mistake, and Izuna gets a light graze to his ribs instead of a fatal stab. His eyes are widening too, because he’s familiar with Tobirama’s speed and skill and he _knows_. He waits for the agony of Izuna’s own strike; a kunai, going for his jugular. Izuna won’t be able to stop it, but Tobirama knew that.

He knew the first time he saw Madara that something about him would end him. His eyes, though perhaps not the way he might have imagined: no Sharingan, no black commas in rings of red; just the gut-wrenching mix of joy and guilt when Madara realizes what Tobirama’s done and why. The suspicion when those same eyes flick to Hashirama and twist at the edges, wondering. Waiting.

Izuna cries out when his kunai finally lands, comes back dripping. Tobirama stumbles forward, leaning his weight on the man. One of his hands covers Izuna’s shocked, heavy exhales. He smiles a little.

“You were a worthy opponent,” he whispers, trying to make sure Izuna hears and understands, but he blacks out before he can pull back to see the man’s face.


	2. Izuna

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Aftermath, from Izuna's point of view.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For the lovely people who sent me such wonderful, angsty, lovely reviews! ^-^

Izuna doesn’t move on from Tobirama’s body after he falls; he sits and waits. Waits for a Senju to approach, to try to take his opponent’s body from his loose cradle in Izuna’s lap. Drops of water fall on the albino’s face, but he doesn’t reach to wipe them away. 

It hurts, looking at this shell, this empty hollow thing where Tobirama’s energy once blazed even when he was at rest. He knows Madara’s seen him sitting there, weeping for his own enemy, but Izuna doesn’t care. Every second that ticks by, he waits for Hashirama’s outburst of grief, or disbelieving rage, or sudden distraction from his own fight, and minutes pass without Hashirama saying a thing or even noticing.

_ Your final brother,  _ Izuna thinks, pulling Tobirama’s face into his chest and disintegrating a new challenger with a single blue-hot fireball.  _ They’re no competition compared to you, Senju-san.  _

He knows why it happened, of course. Tobirama was ever logical, and eventually he’d come to the same conclusion Madara had: if anything ever happened to his brother, he’d be weakened. Only momentarily, of course, and then his rage and grief would make him even more powerful so that he might smite his brother’s killers to dust, but it would’ve been an opening. One Hashirama would’ve taken unknowingly, unrealizing that Madara’s defenses had been down. He would’ve dealt a killing blow without meaning to, because that was how the two had always fought, death-blows and crude attacks traded like teasing pats on the head.

And so he’d set himself up for the kill, stationed his sword in perfect position to catch under Izuna’s guard, and it would’ve worked, too. Surprisingly enough, Izuna would’ve been taken off guard by a killing blow; they’d fought like it was a challenging game, often, smirking and baiting and darting out of reach.

But he’d looked at Madara, glanced out of momentary guilt? And seen the look in the Uchiha head’s eyes: betrayal. Ironically enough, Madara had almost trusted Tobirama with Izuna’s care, with training him through brute force and unyielding skill, and it was thrown right back in his face.

But it hadn’t been. Tobirama had seen it, and made his choice. He’d comforted Izuna in his final moments, instead of cursing him, and now here Izuna sat, crying for him and defending his body for funeral rites. 

He can hear behind him, how Madara has stopped attacking and is merely defending, trying to tell Hashirama about his little brother, but the man wasn’t listening. Even if he thought it was a bluff, he still should have glanced behind him, should have at least checked. Madara would have done it, no matter the weakness it gave him. 

Izuna stared down at Tobirama’s peaceful face in his lap and felt his eyes give a roiling, hateful twinge. It hurt, it  _ hurt _ ; his heart was dying in his chest for Tobirama, his enemy, his mirror, his foil. He screamed, red tears running down his cheeks like rain, like acid.

_ You should have been our brother, you poor, lonely man.  _


	3. Madara

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Madara's POV.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, this is the final chapter. I decided against trying to make a happy ending after all; it just wouldn't fit, I felt.

Madara didn’t understand Hashirama sometimes. He knew the man was fiercely protective of anything he considered his, but also that he would place everything he had under his dream of peace, if he had to. Madara couldn’t understand that; family was everything he had, and peace was his dream too, his hope for the future, but his family was what he had  _ now _ , what he could protect  _ today _ . After all, what would peace be without his loved ones by his side, so that he could enjoy the view of their happiness without need for constant fear that it would all be taken away? Following that thinking, it could be said that he and Hashirama listened to the same type of music, but Hashirama enjoyed listening to it with his eyes closed and Madara with his eyes open;  _ that _ was the similarity of their dreams.

Tobirama, however, had been easy to understand. He fought without arrogance but knew his own strength, and that was made him frightening to his enemies. 

This? Seeing his most steadfast annoyance/constant cut down due to a momentary error? Inconceivable. 

Hashirama was only making it worse. 

“Hashirama,” he tried, dodging the man’s slowest kick yet. The Senju was losing steam, slowing his movements as caution and confusion crept in, but Madara ignored the ample opportunities. The man’s only remaining (close) family had just  _ died _ , by the Sage. He deserved a little sympathy. (The fact that Madara’s brother was the killer only caused more guilt, especially because Izuna couldn’t have done it if he hadn’t been almost forced into it, with no way of backing out. He was trying not to think about that, though.)

“ _ Hashirama _ ,” he growled, smacking a palm-strike away with his forearm. “Would you just  _ look _ ? I swear on every stone I have ever skipped, your brother is no longer fighting.” 

Hashirama paused to frown and blow his fringe out of his eyes theatrically. “What? Tobirama would never just  _ stop fighting _ . He’s always talking to the elders about how defeating our enemies before they become our enemies is ‘the only way to win the battle of survival, for shinobi’.” Hashirama shook his head and rolled his eyes. Madara’s heart, buried reliably beneath layers of bloodshed and lost causes, fractured but didn’t rupture.  _ He was cleverer than you ever gave him credit for. I guess you won’t be hearing any more griping from his side any longer _ , it said. 

Hashirama glanced behind him and paused, looking startled, but not  _ my brother is dead.  _ More like,  _ what’s going on over there? _ Senju had begun to converge on Izuna, creeping forward as though uncomprehending. One of them, a woman with mid-length, luxurious hair tied into a knot, screamed harshly. Hashirama’s eyebrows drew together. “Who’s that…” he began, but he never finished his sentence. Energy gathered in the tension in his legs, held suspended, waiting, until the cracked earth beneath his feet imploded as he leaped. 

Madara didn’t watch; there would be enough witnesses to Hashirama’s inevitably public grieving. Izuna had left Tobirama’s still-warm body in the man’s arms and wandered to Madara. The Uchiha filtered after, staring in shock at the Senju as they disintegrated in an empty battlefield. One of them, a younger man, threw a spear desperately in their direction, but it somehow veered off course and into the trees beside them. 

_ I suppose _ , thought Madara as they began the race to their own compound,  _ that this will mean the end to Hashirama’s attempts at peace.  _

He wasn’t surprised that that wasn’t where his regret lay, settled in the palm of a silver-haired man cooling in the boiling remains of his family, but he regretted it all the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And yes, the missing spear is Tobirama's doing. ;) Take from that what you will.


	4. Yup.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> LAST CHAPTER.  
> (for real this time.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I tried to put the Edo Tensei in there, I really did, and you know what happened?   
> It said 'fuck you', walked away, and left me with another fic about reincarnation. That is literally what happened right here.  
> Also I confirm the romance between Madara and Tobirama, and rekindle the bromance between Tobirama/Izuna, Itachi/Izuna, and Itachi/Shisui (which might have been heading into actual romance territory without me meaning to, so probs gonna add that to the tags lmao) just for you. Yum. Bromance.  
> Thank you so much for your awesome comments, everybody! And your bookmarks, and your kudos... you guys are a bucket of fantastic that gets dumped on my head every morning when I get the daily message from the site. :] stay superb readers.  
> Special thanks to: cosmosqueen, for the Edo Tensei suggestion, even if it didn't quite work out; shadesofmidnightsun, even though the reincarnation bit totally happened ^^; so sorry; redlipstickkisses, for the "ghost/edo tensei bit" (i love ghosts, just saying, they keep happening to me); and finally, m_is_for_mochi. :) Thank you so much, people!

It’s Izuna who finds the notes in Tobirama’s office months later, helping the Senju to empty their compound in preparation for the big move into Hashirama’s wooden village.  _ Hypothetical _ , it says along the top of the sheaf,  _ do not attempt without further study _ , and then, as he reads on further,  _ Art of Resurrecting the Dead _ . 

He stands so quickly something shatters in the background. Someone shouts and bustles past him to fix it, but he isn’t listening. By this point, he’s focusing on where Madara had said he was going, and then he’s running in the direction of Hashirama’s office. They’d figured that was safest in terms of lingering hostility.

He’s almost there, practically leaping through Hashirama’s window, when a blast of wind hits him square in the chest. He twists, landing on his feet in the dirt, but the sheaf’s been blown out of his hand and is fluttering away. In seconds it is past the treeline and out of sight.

_ No _ , he thinks, dawning horror and disappointment,  _ no, I can change it, don’t try and stop me! _ He doesn’t think of who he’s thinking it at, all he can think of is retrieving his one chance at getting everything back. 

( _ maybe, if I do this, Madara will smile again _ .)

\--

Itachi sees through Izuna’s eyes the sheaf of paper, the desperation, the  _ need  _ for it. He grows up looking through the filter of Izuna’s guilt and shame and pain. When Sasuke is born and Izuna, sequestered away in the back of Itachi’s head, brightens just a little with a quiet  _ Madara _ , Itachi knows he has to finish Izuna’s lifelong quest: finding the jutsu again.

\--

He’s twelve when Sasuke finds it in his bedroom. 

“Itachi-nii,” the little boy asks, holding a stack of papers out to him, “i found these,” his nose scrunches. “What do they say?”

It’s the  _ Art of Resurrecting the Dead _ . Itachi feels Izuna rise in his mind like a sudden wave, grabbing the pages with his hands and thanking Sasuke (fervently) with his mouth before retreating. 

Izuna and Itachi swear to help each other that day, and they don’t ever regret it.

\--

The first time Itachi  _ really _ meets Izuna is during a class lesson on how and why Konoha was founded. 

“Our first Hokage, Senju Hashirama, finally convinced the equally powerful Uchiha clan to meet in peace talks after the Final Battle, during which Hashirama’s remaining brother, Tobirama, makes a fatal error while fighting Uchiha Izuna and dies. Hashirama was grief-stricken but was determined for there to be peace, and so they met in the compound of…” The history teacher is droning. Her boredom is well-disguised but also frighteningly apparent to Itachi and Shisui, who sit together in the back of the class. 

_ Wait _ , says something in the back of Itachi’s mind, where his conscience would be if he believed in that sort of thing.  _ What? That’s completely wrong. Tobirama didn’t die from a  _ mistake _ , what the hell are you spouting?  _

He twitches a finger, alerting Shisui that there’s something wrong, and his best friend and cousin lazily triggers the Sharingan, scanning the classroom without a word of protest. 

_ Who is this?  _ Itachi asks cautiously, listening, and a moment later he taps Shisui’s leg in the ‘ _ never mind, false alarm _ ’ signal. The Sharingan disappears back into the corners of Shisui’s eyes like a dissipating fog. 

The teacher doesn’t even glance at them. In a way, this foreshadows Itachi’s entire life, doesn’t it?

\--

Izuna watches Itachi’s world with wonder. 

_ We did it, Tobirama. The thing you wanted but didn’t know how to do is happening.  _

Children are being children their whole childhood, with no need for civilians to take up arms for their own lives to be sustained. 

It’s a beautiful thing to see.

\--

They choose to use the jutsu. Itachi doesn’t tell anyone where he’s going, but he leaves Shisui his mask. It’s a signal,  _ I don’t anticipate returning, so I want you to have this mark of who I was. _ It’s commonly used by ANBU about to attempt a suicide mission.

They go to the tomb Izuna and Madara built specially, beneath a waterfall so full of nature chakra that it’s fueled the protection and preservation jutsus entirely on its own for almost a century now. At the time, it was publically announced to be a gesture of goodwill to the Senju: respect for their dead, their loss, but to the Uchiha it was an honor to Tobirama, the man who was caught between Madara’s brother and his own and jerked between the puppet strings until Izuna’s kunai ended his struggles. 

Izuna pauses Itachi’s footsteps as they descend the staircase and glances at the etchings on the walls, traces them with his fingertips.  _ They’re ours, marking him as one of us, one of our heroes. It’s sickening, to think they’ve forgotten enough to warp what’s taught to children. _ He says, very, very quietly,  _ He was unstoppable, like the waterfall, like lightning. Electric, fast, and so, so clever. Like a weed. _ He laughs, and lets Itachi continue walking. They go faster than before, almost excited to reach the bottom and fulfill this silent promise they’ve kept to themself. 

“Did you love him?” Itachi asks out loud, and Izuna scoffs.  _ Like family? Undeniably. But as more? As something… else? No.  _ He sighs.  _ That was more Madara’s area, the oaf.  _

\--

The cavern isn’t unoccupied. A stone basin, like an adult-sized cradle, protrudes slightly from the floor. It’s wide and long, too big for just one man.

Izuna sighs again.  _ He wanted to be laid to rest here, so I told the clan he’d been buried and left him here instead.  _ Itachi raises an eyebrow.  _ I told Mito, though!  _ Izuna says defensively, and Itachi snorts. 

Madara and Tobirama lay side by side, curled against each other, in the basin. Madara is not too much older than Tobirama in death; he meets the life expectancy point of that time quite admirably and takes his good looks with him to the grave. It’s almost embarrassing, looking at the scene, but eventually Izuna turns them away and forces Itachi’s attention to getting the ritual together.

\--

They complete the jutsu.

_ Something  _ happens, but there’s nothing in Tobirama or Madara’s bodies.

Izuna cracks one of the walls punching it.

\--

Itachi returns to take his mask from Shisui and shocks himself by admitting some feeling of inadequacy to his friend. He failed. Tobirama and Madara will never get their happy endings. Izuna has retreated to the far corner of his head, hiding the tears a grown shinobi never lets themself reveal. 

Shisui walks him home, and kisses his cheek with a saucy wink, and they both laugh. Itachi’s sadness fades a little, but doesn’t go away.

Maybe it never will.

\--

  
  
  
  


He waits years.

  
  
  
  


\--

Sasuke’s eyes don’t skirt away from his anymore. They peer right into him, pin him to a wall and chain him there, dissect him like a rabbit or an insect, and he wonders when his little brother grew so strong. He readies the strike, tilts his blade like he’s seen in diagrams, in studies, in Izuna’s memories. Like an offering. Sasuke’s kunai flashes in the light from someone’s lantern, and he bares his teeth.  _ A challenge _ , Itachi thinks, restraining himself from growling in response.

_ Wait _ , says Izuna.  _ Go in for the kill, but tilt your blade before striking. Graze his ribs. _

_?  _ He thinks, but he’s already moving, letting Izuna’s hazy, scattered thoughts propel his limbs. Sasuke’s eyes blow so wide and black so quickly Itachi almost falters, but then he realizes why this position is familiar. 

_It was a genin mistake_ , Izuna is shouting in the back of his head. His eyes overheat with _dark_ and _red_. 

Sasuke hasn’t moved. He’s frozen, his Sharingan whirling like miniature cyclones. He’s thinking, weighing the odds and possibilities.

“Izuna.” He says, older. More confident. 

Izuna’s mouth stretches into a slash. 

“Big brother,” Itachi and Izuna say at the same time. 

_ Now there’s only one left _ , they think together.

\--

Tobirama is almost easy. 

\--

The blonde boy slips between two jounin and slaps a seal onto the back of one’s knee. They buckle, a grunt of air escaping the downed man, but the boy is already scrambling up a fire escape and clambering over the rooftop. He smirks down at the second, who has just been besieged by a glitter bomb that also includes knock-out gas and rainbow paint. 

“Hello,” someone greets from behind him, and he jerks sideways. 

_ No one sneaks up on me _ , he whispers, and then he sees them.

They’re dark. Their skin is pale like sealing paper and the rest of them is so dark it’s as though they’ve been colored in with shadows. Their eyes shudder in their heads when he looks at their chakra, live wires in the electrical circuit of their bodies. He knows this coloring.

Uchiha. 

\--

Something unfurls in the back of his head like a flower blooming ( _ but with more blood _ ) and someone steps out, groaning. 

_ Don’t worry _ , they say, hair white as a focussed flame.  _ You’re safe; they’re here for me. _

_ I know you _ , he thinks back wonderingly,  _ you’re - _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Questions? ;)


End file.
